by Desiree Holt
And a glance over her shoulder showed her traveling companion lit up like the sun in response. “Karma!” He lifted a hand and waved then, as they came within a dozen feet of the floor, hopped over the side of the moving staircase, and held out his arms. A security guard moved toward them, but, as Karma leapt into his embrace and he took her in a kiss that shut out everyone around them, the man smiled and turned away.
She didn’t blame him. He’d have had a long wait to even be noticed, and she doubted Warren would have minded his rebuke. Mates. True mates. She swallowed hard. And she had the bad fortune to be tied for life—perhaps for eternity—to Cerberus. Perhaps his bitter father’s choice to name him after a demon when his mother died in childbirth was apt, or perhaps he’d grown into it. But, no matter, she belonged to him, and while she appreciated her new American friends’ attempts to keep her safe, the Fates would ensure she met hers.
She rode the rest of the way down, watching Warren and Karma kiss while another pair of men stood near them, one nearly the same size and bulk of their alpha and another much smaller and slighter. But both stood with the misleading ease of bodyguards. She’d left hers behind when she mated, Cerberus insisting he would protect his mate. Of course, the reality was he wouldn’t have been allowed to beat her regularly while she had the guards who had been at her side since girlhood.
With no other obvious options, she moved to join the pair of men waiting for their alpha and his mate to end their lip-lock. Trying not to focus on them, she cast her glance around the room, the baggage carousels moving endlessly, people loading carts with bag after bag, chattering away to one another about their journeys or what the travelers had missed while on their journeys. If she ever made it home again, the elders, if they still lived, would greet her with such disappointment at her failure to produce cubs for them. Couples kissed, families hugged, and her eyes filled with tears of homesickness and loneliness.
What was the point, really, of sending her to the desert to hide? She couldn’t do it forever. Someday she’d be caught and returned to him. As the only new mates in many years, they’d been an anomaly, with no role models to follow, but Cerberus made it clear their first night together that she was his property to do with as he pleased. He’d not taken her innocence. He’d shredded it from her in blood and pain.
She’d had that one moment of elation when she saw Warren, a bear who was neither her mate nor one of the sleazy types with whom he made friends. Delia had never been the type to throw herself at anyone, and the memory brought heat to her cheeks. But in reality, Cerberus, the Hound of Hades, would soon show up to reclaim his property.
Death might be a preferable alternative. Suddenly determined not to drag things out, she turned on a heel. She had no baggage, anyway, only the few things in her carry-on bag, and enough money in her envelope to buy a ticket back to New Orleans. When Cerberus stepped out of prison, she’d be there to meet him—with the whip he used to torture her into submission and the hope he’d kill her quickly this time.
Suddenly, a large form overshadowed her, and she looked up and up to meet the golden eyes of the second largest man she’d ever met. “So you’re our new project?”
She bristled, all thoughts of surrender dissipating. “I am Delia Constanopoulos, a Bear of Epirus.” Narrowing her eyes, she spat out, “I am nobody’s project.”
Glenn gaped at the little bundle of fire, unsure whether to chuckle or run. Like a kitten spitting at him, Miss Constanopoulos posed little threat, but her claws could still draw blood. Her torn jeans and baggy Crossroads shirt did little to disguise her generous curves. She belonged in more feminine attire—preferably lingerie—and he’d like to be the one to buy it for her. And peel it away.
Most of her shiny brown hair was gathered in a bun at the nape of her neck, but loose strands fell around her face, softening her features. The outrage in her deep-blue stare was offset by the softness of her full, rosy lips. Their eyes met and locked, and his cock went rock hard. He swallowed hard. What kind of creature had this effect on a man the second they met. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.
Her lips parted, and the tip of a pink tongue swiped over them. Her chest rose and fell with fast, short breaths. He would take her here, now. In front of Alpha and everyone. As long as he could take her.
“Mate.” The single word made it past his trance, and he reached for her hand, wanting to touch….
She broke their lock-stare and jerked back, stumbling over her beat-up sneakers but recovered her balance and remained out of reach. Had the others seen his rejection from a woman who’d been nothing short of horrified at his attempt to simply touch her hand?
As he tried to think of a way to escape the humiliation, to pretend his mistake never happened, Warren and Karma finally ended the longest kiss in Sky Harbor history and turned to face the rest of them.
“Karma,” Warren said, his arm resting easily on his mate’s shoulders, “this is the young woman I told you about. Delia Constanopoulos. Delia, this is my mate, Karma, soon to be Karma Ursa.” The bastard glowed with happiness as Karma moved forward to enfold Delia in a warm hug.
“I’m so sorry about that”—she cast an evil glare at Warren who grinned back, unrepentant—“public display. You’d think he’d been away for months instead of a few days. I guess he missed me.”
Karma glowed, too. When they were together, the pair behaved as if every day was Christmas and everything around them a pile of glittering presents. Cloying. Overdone. Nobody could really be that happy.
Not even true mates.
And he preferred the single life, meeting interesting women, taking them back to his cave and ravishing them, moving on to the next. That pair of cats, Mariel and Jinger, had kept him occupied for nearly a week.
Harvey collected a couple of suitcases and a box from the carousel, stacked them on a cart, and started for the parking lot, the two women arm in arm ahead of them, black braid and brown bun close together, whispering and glancing over their shoulders.
“I think they might be talking about us,” Warren said, still smiling. “Maybe we won’t have such a big problem after all. We should be able to protect one little female, right?”
Before he could answer, Harvey wheeled the cart past them, hopping to catch up with the women. “Who’s going to protect Glenn from her?” His laughter carried behind him as Glenn squeezed his eyes closed and paused where he was, in the middle of the crosswalk. A horn honked.
They made it to the sidewalk and Warren grabbed his biceps. “Protect you? Something I should know? Have you met our guest before?”
Glenn shook his head. “Nope, and we haven’t even introduced ourselves now. You know Harvey. Hare brains are always on the beast with two backs.” Had the hare heard him say that word? The M word? “Let’s get her back to the club and settled in. We set up a room for her way in the back for easy defense.”
“In the back?” Warren arched a dark brow.
“Yeah…did you want her somewhere else? Whatever you think best.”
The alpha’s chuckle rolled over him. “No, the room next to yours is just fine. I wouldn’t want her to have any less than the best protection.”
As Warren started forward again, Glenn trailed behind, eyeing the group approaching the black SUV. Harvey held the door for the ladies to climb into the backseat then went around the rear and hopped in the back hatch. They’d learned long ago not to argue with where he sat. If they got pulled over, he’d make himself so small they’d never get a seat belt ticket.
Prey instincts.
Warren took the driver’s seat as always. Most alphas would be in the passenger seat, happy to be ferried around, but not theirs. A string of speeding violations attested to that. Glenn settled in and they sailed out of the airport and onto Interstate 10 north, air conditioning blasting away the early fall heat beating away at the glossy black exterior. Anyone in Arizona with sense got a light-colored car, but, on this point, their usually practical leader made a quixotic c
hoice. White cars bored him. Karma quizzed Delia in the backseat, and Glenn strained his shifter senses to hear her answers, hungry to know every detail of the female’s life.
Because how could he guard her safety without knowing where she’d bought the necklace she wore? Despite their low murmurs and answering his alpha’s questions about happenings during his absence, he gathered the silver coin suspended at the base of her throat was an heirloom and the only thing of value she’d managed to hold onto in her flight from the bear who’d nearly killed her. She never took it off.
His bear growled and paced inside, wanting to go find the bastard and shred him.
“Glenn, why are you growling? I’m not driving that fast.”
“What?” Crap, the alpha could hear it. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the two females staring at him as well.
The Superstition Freeway loomed and the tightness always in his chest in crowds eased. When he’d left the Pacific Northwest to follow his cousin to Arizona, the location of the club had been an incentive. He didn’t have to go into town often and it never failed to unsettle him.
“Not long now.” Warren’s shoulders dropped as well. None of them liked the city. It was too hard to try to be “normal.” And the energy of most humans was chaotic as their environs. Upset the bears. With a security issue in Delia, they had twice the tension.
With a sigh, Glenn sank against the smooth leather seat and let the women’s murmurs soothe him further. They’d be home soon and could get the beautiful Greek female settled in her quarters. Away from the teeth-grinding static of the crowds that inhabited the big city of Phoenix and its surroundings.
They cruised into Mesa, still nearly a half million population, but with every mile closer to Apache Junction, he felt better. And, clearly, so did Warren who launched into an anecdote about some crazy alligator shifters at Crossroads, the New Orleans nightclub, the night before.
“You wouldn’t believe what a few cocktails can do to some reptiles,” he said, moving into the fast lane. “I swear they come in from the swamps and just lose all control. Half shifted, those tails slamming into everything. The bouncers had to wrestle them into the alleyway and the back of a truck.”
Glenn laughed along. “Then what did they do with them?” Few alligators made their way to Animals. Now, iguanas….
“It gets better. They used this big net to keep them in the back of the truck and a tarp over that so no civilians would be able to—”
“Stop!” Karma shrieked from the backseat. “We need to get off the highway!”
Chapter 3
Delia trailed Karma and Warren into the Superstition Springs, a mall just off the Superstition Freeway. The hot sun beat on her head, although it was early fall and most places in the Northern Hemisphere had begun to cool. Back home in Epirus, the days would be warm, but not hot anymore, the nights cool and pleasant. It would likely even rain some days. And the dusty greens of the forest, white cliffs, and deep-blue water rested and delighted the eyes.
Here, the black asphalt parking lot burned through her ratty shoes, and the browns and dull earth tones around her seared her irises. A few droopy, nondescript plants did little to break the monotony. New Orleans had been a sweaty, humid heat she never thought she’d miss, but her skin ached at the dryness. She licked her chapped lips and fished in her purse for a lip balm.
I will never be home again.
“I thought Warren was going to steer us right into the back of that truck.” Glenn took her arm and escorted her through the automatic doors and into the blessedly cool interior.
“Karma did startle him, didn’t she?” With the edge off the heat, Delia drew a deep breath and looked around her. Palms and other desert flora-filled planters around the expansive interior. Rows of boutiques lined the middle, cute, summery clothes in autumn colors filling their windows. “I guess she wants to pick up a few things. But why so excited?” She sped up, closing the distance between them and the other pair, but Glenn tugged on her arm.
“Hang on. I think they might need to talk for a minute.”
The other two spoke in low tones, the alpha’s rumbling, Karma’s high and almost shrill. Finally, the big bear shifter stepped back and shrugged, waved his mate ahead of him.
“Delia, come on!” Karma’s grin reflected no upset at the growls her mate had emanated. “My favorite store is right up ahead, and after, we can have lunch. And maybe even take a quick ride on the carousel.”
Warren growled, and she poked him. Bear poking was rarely a good idea, and alpha bear poking a terrible one. But after casting her a baleful glare, this alpha broke into laughter and lifted Karma into his huge embrace.
“I have half a mind to take you over my knee. I am not riding on that thing. I’d probably break it for one. If you want to, go ahead, but we can’t take too long. I want to be home and settled long before dark.”
She kissed him on the cheek. “You’re the best.” Squirming to the ground, she turned and pointed to a bench. “You men can stay there unless you want to brave the terrifying world of women’s clothing and lingerie?”
Glenn released Delia’s arm and sank onto the seat. Warren looked around first but followed suit.
Karma nodded in satisfaction. “Then you can hold our purses.” She dropped her retro jeans bag onto her mate’s lap.
At the aghast expression on the two bear males, Delia stifled a giggle. “Really, I can hold my own….”
“No.” Karma tugged Delia’s bag from her shoulder and handed it to Glenn. “If they want to blend in—and let’s face it, at their size, they stand out just by showing up—they have to do what the rest of the husbands and boyfriends are doing at the mall.” She waved and sure enough, scattered throughout the open area, men sat on benches and low planter walls, clutching every variety of ladies’ handbags. “My point is made. Come on, girlfriend. We need to get you some new clothes.”
She paused by Warren, and he pulled out his wallet and extracted a black credit card. “I’ll get you your own as soon as you make an honest man of me, sweetheart,” he said, handing it off to her.
“This works!” she chirped and dragged Delia toward a boutique with only a bronze bowl in the window, sitting on a heap of sand. They sold clothes in there? “You’re going to love Tina’s store. She’s my bestie Sara’s sister and they come from an amazing family. I’ll have to introduce you to Sara sometime, but for now the point is, Tina carries sizes and styles that are fun and attractive and look good on a woman who weighs more than a hundred pounds dripping wet.”
The sign outside read Curvy Girls Rock and Delia smiled, once inside, as the panoply of colors and textures overwhelmed her senses—in the very best way. “Karma, I don’t have any money to spend on clothes, but I’d be happy to give my opinions on anything you pick out for yourself.” The store was deserted, but then the mall had been thinly populated. Shouldn’t someone be minding the place?
Approaching a rack of delicate lacy undergarments at the back of the store, Karma paused. “I wouldn’t think of letting you spend your money. But you’ll have to change clothes at some point, and you’re taller than me, or I’d lend you mine.” She eyed her and held out a floaty white nightgown with blue ribbons threaded through the neckline and hem. “And”—she cut off any possible protests—“it would hurt Warren’s feelings if you didn’t let him treat you to some things. Not to mention embarrass him in front of the rest of the clan to have his guest wearing the same clothes day after day.” She raised a groomed black brow. “I hope it doesn’t hurt your feelings if I tell you those are ready for the rag bag.”
Delia winced and bit her lip. She’d had beautiful clothes all her life. What a sad state she’d come to. “Okay, but just a couple of outfits and I will pay him back when I can.”
“Whatever.” Karma piled the nightgown in Delia’s arms and began to move from rack to rack, adding to it until her knees threatened to buckle.
“I can’t carry any more,” she protested. “Really, I just n
eed a couple of shirts, maybe a pair or two of jeans. And if I can get another pair of sneakers somewhere here? I wouldn’t ask, but these have a hole in the sole.”
“You rhymed!” Delia stared as a voluptuous redhead tripped into the store, holding a frozen mocha in one hand and a small white paper bag in the other. “I’m so sorry, my dear, but I just ran next door to the candy story for a moment to refill my dish.” She waved the cup. “And I needed a little pick-me-up.” She dropped everything on a counter at the back of the store then spilled the rainbow of candy into the crystal dish there. “So good to see you, Karma. Sara said it’s like you fell off the edge of the world since you met that hunk of good lovin’.” She hugged Karma and faced Delia, a good-natured smile on her face. “I’m Tina, doll. And you can take those clothes right into the dressing room because you are a mess.”
Delia started for the curtain she pointed out, struggling not to drop anything she carried on the way. She couldn’t help looking over her shoulder, though, at the storekeeper. While the store offered a wide variety of styles, Tina chose tight jeans that hugged every curve and a corset top, laced so tightly her ample breasts spilled over. The heels on her knee-high black boots had to be at least four inches. Added to the mass of red curls spilling down her back and her vivid coloring, the entire impression was that of a motorcycle mama crossed with a Renaissance painting of a beautiful courtesan.
She didn’t have much more time to dwell because the two humans ganged up on her, tossing more and more clothing into the room and making her try on each item, no matter how outlandish. They never asked what she wanted to keep or liked, just put everything into one of two piles, a very small one to reject and a huge mountain to purchase.